They tumbled him aboard, where he lay in an insensate heap, drooling spit and making incoherent, bubbling noises.

Without lifting an eyebrow in surprise, the sailmaker stepped forward and joined the mate in jerking the man to his feet.  The captain went aft as if it was all in the day’s work.

The mate and the sailmaker jerked the shanghaied man forward and bundled him into a locker where bits of rope and nautical odds and-ends were piled, just forward of the galley.

* * * * *

In the sharp but misty dawn we cast our moorings loose.  A busy little tug nuzzled up to take us in tow for open sea.

We were all intent on putting forth, when a cry came from the port side.  The shanghaied man had broken out, and came running aft ... he stopped a moment, like a trapped animal, to survey the distance between the dock and the side ... measuring the possibilities of a successful leap.

By this time the first and second mates were after him, with some of the men ... he ran forward again, doubled in his tracks like a schoolboy playing tag ... we laughed at that, it was so funny the way he went under the mate’s arm ... the look of surprise on the mate’s face was funny ...  Then the man who was pursued, in a flash, did a hazardous thing ... he flung himself in the air, over the starboard side, and took a long headlong tumble into the tugboat....

* * * * *

He was tied like a hog, and hauled up by a couple of ropes, the sailmaker singing a humorous chantey that made the boys laugh, as they pulled away.

* * * * *

This delayed the sailing anyhow.  The mist had lifted like magic, and we were not far toward Staten Island before we knew a fine, blowing, clear day, presided over, in the still, upper spaces, by great, leaning cumulus clouds.  They toppled huge over the great-clustered buildings as we trod outward toward the harbour mouth....

The pilot swung aboard.  The voyage was begun.

The coast of America now looked more like a low-lying fringe of insubstantial cloud than solid land.

My heart sank.  I had committed myself definitely to a three-months’ sea-trip ... there was no backing out, it was too far to swim ashore.

“What’s wrong, Johann,” asked the captain, “are you sea-sick already?” He had noticed my expression as he walked by.

“No, sir!”

“If you are, it isn’t anything to be ashamed of.  I’ve known old sea-captains who got sea-sick every time they put out of port.”

* * * * *

There was a running forward.  The shanghaied man hove in sight, on the rampage again.  He came racing aft.  “I must speak with the captain.”

There was a scuffle.  He broke away.  Again the two mates were close upon him.  Suddenly he flung himself down and both the mates tripped over him and went headlong.